The Story of a Student
by LuMoura
Summary: David Price is a thirtytwo year old teacher who lost his belief in love long ago, but somehow he will find out that there’s a lot more to learn, when it comes to this feeling that is so commercialized, and ironically enough he will learn it from one of hi


Prologue

I stare out the window and think about everything that has happened in my life. Who am I? Not even I have the answer to that anymore… I used to have it, but now… Now I only know one thing…

How my life has changed. I used to be a teacher in Oxford and an awarded writer, not that I'm not considered as one, I just don't think of myself that way anymore. Why? Simple, I don't know if what I said during my whole life was accurate. Mistakes? All of us commit them, after all it's only human, but to mistake yourself to the point where you create a whole life around it… Well, I think I'm already giving a bit of my story away. It's nothing that serious, but it changed me as a person and also some of the people around me. The catalyser of this all has a name and surname… Heidi, Heidi Parker.

Anyhow I think I should start from the beginning so you can understand where I'm standing right now.

Chapter I

"Good morning my dear students my name is David Price but feel free to call me Mr. Price or even Sir, as you prefer. I hope you all feel excited enough to start this year with the right foot. I should warn you, it won't be easy, even though I don't label my subject as being that hard, all it needs is a little bit of your availability and dedication, if that isn't asking too much… Well, I hope all of you have the book", I said rapidly while I entered the enormous auditorium of Oxford University. I left my briefcase on top of the desk and got out my books.

"Mr. Price we're starting with Frei Luís de Sousa right?"

"Yes", I answered while showing my copy, different from all of the others, since mine looked rather old due to its use, unlike theirs in which you could still inhale the scent of new coming from them. "I don't think it will be necessary for me to ask if anyone has read the book, after all who in his right mind would ever read a book, during their holidays, for a class that hasn't even started."

"That's it Mr. Price! Finally, someone who understands us", a voice from the back of the auditorium cheered.

"Yeah well, what can I say comprehension is my middle name and so is marks so I would kindly ask you all to have the book read by tomorrow and don't worry, I'll do a little quiz to see if you really have read it.", I heard most of them laughing but the laughter seized the minute they understood that my expression hadn't changed.

"With all due respect Sir tomorrow is too early. Couldn't we do the quiz next week?"

"With all due respect, the book only has 108 pages, the book is a play for those of you who didn't know, and I don't want to hear any more discussions, the book better be read by tomorrow. You are dismissed, and instead of coming over here to try to bargain with me take advantage of the fact that I'm dismissing you early and start reading."

Within minutes I was left alone, sometimes I felt like someone extremely cold, not because of the homework I assign, after all their the students' obligation, but because I don't know their names, and this fact doesn't change throughout the year. I put my book back into my briefcase and left the auditorium. For some reason I didn't like to stay there alone. I think it's because I can't handle the fact that it can be so superior to me. Don't get me wrong, I don't believe myself to be better than others, I just don't like to think that a building can have more history than I will ever have.

I only have one class, that meaning, ninety minutes three times a week, it's not that much, it's actually quite few, but that doesn't mean I don't have a lot of work. In that one class, there are sixty eight students, that equals sixty eight tests, sixty eight reports, among other assignments. I walked through the path along the campus' garden and, as always, I couldn't help but admire it. Again, my history won't be nearly as full as the one this campus already has. That bothers me. A human-being can do so many things during his life, yet most of them pass unnoticed to the rest of the world. That's probably one of my ambitions, to do something remarkable that will be remembered by others, that will give history teachers a bit more to talk about.

I got to the end of the path still looking at the garden's, mostly well taken care of, flowers and its perfectly trimmed bushes. I bet that if you stare at them carefully you will be able to notice different shapes. I walked through an arch with more flowers and plants, I'm very observant but I just can't be bothered to name all the plants, I wouldn't even have the ability to do so.

As I entered the parking lot I saw one of the old teachers running towards the building. It's pathetic. An old woman with books in her hand running towards a class that most likely won't even hear her say good morning, that is, if she does. That's one of the reasons I tend to be very calm. She ran passed me and attempted to give me a polite wave, but she couldn't get her act together, well at least not a polite one, anyway. I saw my BMW parked, I walked to it, and I only understood how tired I really was when I entered and sat down on the driver's seat. I haven't been able to sleep quite well for a couple of nights now, as a matter of fact, I haven't been able to sleep at all. I've been pressured by my editor to write another book since the first one was a huge success. The book was about a serial killer. Morbid? A lot, but I just can't write romances. Why? Simple, I just don't believe in love. Lots of people label me as a sceptic, I don't. A Sceptic is someone who doubts everything. I don't doubt everything, I don't even doubt love! I just don't believe in it, it's different.

Like I said I'm somewhat an observant, so it's one of my guilty pleasures to admire everything and everyone. I've admired these streets more than a thousand times and I still don't get tired of looking just one more time. Everytime I look it's like there's something new. It's almost as if I'm a painter whose portrait is never finished because there always seems to be a new significant detail. To me Oxford is one of the most beautiful cities in the world, I feel at ease here. I was born in Bolton, Greater Manchester, but Oxford, just feels like home, and it has been for a couple of years, but the difference is that it feels like this from the first time I came here for a visit with my family. That reminds me, my family, what a laugh. I mean if I don't laugh then what else can I do? Let's start with the worst, my mom, wait a minute, isn't that my sister? Never mind ladies first… Bad criteria, no ladies… Let the eldest take the lead, mom, dear, old, mom. What can I say about her? Only a few adjectives pop in my head when I think of her, and they are: frivol, unconscious and selfish. I won't spare her just because she's half of my origin. She's just a woman who doesn't have much sense. All that matters to her is something she doesn't even have: status. And that brings me back to a gift she got when she was just a silly little girl, but nowadays she's very different, she's no girl any more, well about the gift, it seems one of her dear friends decided she should give her a present for arranging another so rare tea party that curiously happened every day at four. No, I'm not mistaken, they didn't happen at five, but at four, she always said she liked to be one step ahead. Well, at least she was ahead in something. Well, her smart friend gave her a book, not any book, a book with names and their meanings. Mom was thrilled, of course, that meant she could give her future children good names, at the time neither had my sister or I been born. According to my dad, she read the book more than a hundred times, and highlighted a new name everytime, I wouldn't be surprised to see that every single name in that book would be underlined. That's why my dad got sick of her nagging about names and decided to name me himself, David, was his choice, she wasn't entirely unhappy since she thought it had a nice meaning, beloved, ironic, huh? Someone who doesn't believe in love is named after it.

Moving on to my sibling, what can I say about her? Not much actually since she hasn't got much content, who can blame her, she passed almost her entire life attending my mom's tea parties and learning to be one step ahead of the Queen. Her life ambition is to get married, but not to any average Joe. This Joe has to marry her accompanied by a huge fortune.

I have to say I saved the best for last, my dad. A wise man, but I would think of him as an even wiser man if he hadn't chosen to marry my mom. But the poor man says he loves her no matter how foolish she actually is. Well, I guess I have to thank what my dad sees and defines as love, since I was born because of it. My thoughts drifted off when I got home. I entered took a quick shower and, finally, fell asleep.


End file.
